


We can be Friends

by HayKer



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: A lot - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Frankenstein (2011 Play), Conversations, Dialogue, Hannibal is the Creature, Inspired by Frankenstein, M/M, Will is William Frankenstein
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:53:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23999299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HayKer/pseuds/HayKer
Summary: "I have come a long way, walking in the night, fish in the streams. Do you fish, boy?""Yes, Sir.""What do you catch? What baits do you use?""Trouts. I made my flies," Will swallowed, he wanted to turn around. "I shall go…"A hand tapped his shoulder, he froze. "Guess, guess who I am?""Are you an acquaintance of my family?""Yes.""Then you must be a judge, or a minister.""I am a…judge, perhaps," Another light tap on his head. "Don't look back. Don't look at me.""I shan't." Will resisted the urge to look down at the peaceful lake."What's your name?""Will. What's yours, Sir?""We can be friends, Will."A one-shot story inspired by a thought that the Creature successfully became friends with William Frankenstein, and maybe a little further than that.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 14
Kudos: 87





	We can be Friends

**Author's Note:**

> So, it's my very first fic written in English, presumably won't be the last.
> 
> Inspired by Frankenstein (2011 play) performed by Benedict Cumberbatch and Jonny Lee Miller. It is fantastic, and I was so touched after watching. 
> 
> As the summary said this fic is inspired by a spark of thought. I can't tell why but when I was watching the play (especially the version where Benedict Cumberbatch played the Creature), I had this strange personal feeling that Hannibal and the Creature, they shared something in common. Maybe it's the sense of solitude, idk, but I guess more than loneliness.  
> Btw I haven't got the chance to read the actual novel yet. But I bought the book yesterday. I'm ready to go!
> 
> Finally, I must thank my dear friend [lzskwzl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lzskwzl/pseuds/lzskwzl) for betaing, and Brynn, another dearest friend of mine, for making me feel so flattered. Love you both <33333

Monsieur Frankenstein had two sons. Everyone on his land knew that the older one, Victor, was a genius, also a weirdo who left his fiancée alone for six years and lost in science no one really understood. Fortunately, his younger brother Will was another gift to the house of Frankenstein. He inherited the most delicate stormy-blue eyes and the softest dark curls from his poor mother, and was born with the face of an angel. He was no less intelligent than his brother and is as sharp as him, but far less odd than the elder, apparently.

Will was a quiet but independent child. From the age of seven, he had insisted that he would be addressed as Will instead of his real name William. He loved curling in a corner of the library or the backyard, reading any book he could reach. No one doubted that he would grow up either as a judge like his father or a scholar like his brother. His great insight and mild temper earned him the respect and fondness of every person in the household. No one could hide themselves from such pair of crystal-clear blue, though Will never admitted that.

"Come on, Will! Put on the blinder!"

"But Elizabeth, I have to-" Will avoided his future sister-in-law's eyes, quietly pretested. He was dragged outside by her when he was trying to read the sonnets by Shakespeare.

She laughed, "Forget about the books and poems. Look at you, Will, you are as pale as the pearls on my neck. You must have some fresh air."

"Indeed, my little Master," said Clarice the maid, teasing. "Otherwise your father will blame me for not taking care of you."

Will sighed, ducked his head a bit to allow the other boy to put the white cloth around his eyes. He felt Elizabeth hold his hand, and guide him to wherever they wanted.

"One, two, three, four-"

"Fifteen! Sixteen! Seventeen! Eighteen!"

Will knew he was led to the wooden walkways on the lake as they counted. He obediently and silently followed the hand holding his and the hands gently pushing him on the shoulder.

"Twenty-two! Twenty-three!"

They stopped, and Will was made to turn in circles for three times. He could hear their giggles and whispers, waves flapping the stakes, someone deliberately stomping hard behind him, then quiet footsteps toward all directions. He knew that there weren't too many places to hide near the lake other than the boathouse and the boats. Will was in no hurry. He understood that a game ending too soon wouldn't satisfy anyone, even himself, because he appreciated the current solitude.

Twenty-nine, Twenty-nine and a half, he counted absently, pulling down the white blinder.

There was no thirty. Ready or not, he wasn't coming. For now.

He heard a heavy and stumbling footstep approaching from behind. Will frowned, attempted to turn around when he heard a hoarse and low voice.

"Don't turn around, boy. Please, don't."

Will paused, then turned back, facing the open water again. The words were thickly accented, and the tone was somewhat unnatural, he thought, wondering what kind of a man was standing behind.

"T-Thank you," the voice managed, as though it was hard to control his tongue and pronounce properly. "Where am I?"

"Near Geneva, Sir."

"Geneva?"

"Yes, Sir. The lake." Will kept his answer short and clear.

"Oh, the lake. How it glistens." A step closer.

"I have come a long way, walking in the night, fish in the streams. Do you fish, boy?"

"Yes, Sir."

"What do you catch? What bait do you use?"

"Trouts, Sir. I made my flies," Will swallowed, feeling a sudden impulse to turn around. "I shall go-"

A hand tapped his shoulder, he froze. "Guess, guess who I am?"

"Are you an acquaintance of my family?"

"Yes."

"Then you must be a judge, or a minister."

"I am a-judge, perhaps," another light tap on his head. "Don't look back. Don't look at me, please."

"I shan't," Will resisted the urge to look down at the peaceful lake.

"What's your name?"

"Will. What's yours, Sir?"

"We can be friends, Will."

He seemed more than delighted. But Will didn't fail to notice that he almost perfectly mimicked how he said his name, also avoided one of the simplest questions to a man. _It was indeed a very strange request._ Will clenched his teeth, his body tensed. _Why would a man be reluctant to give his name?_

"Names are the precondition of a potential friendship," he said calmly. "I'm afraid."

"We must be friends, Will. Everyone has a friend." What a strange explanation, Will mused, still avoiding. He sounded like Will was the first and only man he had ever met.

The silence stretched behind him and in front of him.

Hands fell on both sides of his shoulder. "Are you curious, Will?"

The voice finally said, harsh and low.

Will nodded. His curiosity had fully overcome the little fear bumping in his chest, but not the nerve.

"Don't scream nor fight," The voice demanded.

"I see no need," Will mumbled, letting the hands on his shoulders slowly turn him around.

Then he gasped, lips apart, and eyes wide opened. He held his breath.

The man-like creature in his view was well built, despite the unneat stitches and bruises all over his exposed skin. He wore no better than rags and tatters, his feet bare. His ashy-blonde hair covered none of the wide dark sutures ran across his face, the colours on both sides seemed somehow disharmonious, unhealthily pale and wan. He stood straight enough, as if his muscular legs weren't stiff. Will finally met those maroon eyes which were seeking the stormy-blue.

He felt nearly choked, breathless. A profound ocean of loneliness and grief devoured him in, beneath the roaring surges of rage, among the submerged reefs of pain. But the pitch-black water was not silent; something was brewing up in the abyss, twisted, wild, with pairs of tenebrous wings and scarlet eyes, lurking silently until the last spark of revenge. He struggled to look up, saw the exquisite ribbon of stars, glimmering in the daylight of foredawn.

"I'm sorry," He breathed.

"Sorry for what?" The creature asked, then hissed. "For what I am?"

"No," Will shook his head, "For your solitary, for your torment, your fury, your pride.

"For whoever created you, animated you, and…abandoned you."

He saw the creature freeze.

"I…seek a man, called Frankenstein," Moments past, said the creature. "Have you heard of him?"

Knowing who the word 'man' referred to, Will was shocked, also not quite so. He had had a glimpse of what his brother was doing, right on the day he came back from Ingolstadt, from the broken word he overheard during Victor's argument with their father. It was evident that no one could truly understand Victor’s panicked and shaky words, neither did him, until now he encountered the creation of his intelligent but arrogant and cowardly brother.

"That's my name."

The creature seemed startled, he growled. "Victor Frankenstein, he is your father?"

"No, he is my brother," Will answered, quietly laughed to himself that his brother was so much older in the creature's eyes. "Do you want to see him? He's always in the house."

The creature remained silent for a while, gazing over Will onto the far open lake.

"Yes, but no," He ducked his head, stared again at Will. "We can go fishing; you can teach me to make flies."

"That sounds nice." Will frowned, but he didn’t ask why.

"Shall we, then?" A hand reached out.

"Not today."

"You don't want to?"

Will looked down at the larger hand held out to him. It was strong and rough - callused, covered with small scratches.

"Another day, maybe, when I can sneak out of the house without anyone following," Will didn't want him to be discovered, especially by Victor. He knew too well what would happen.

"Can I touch you? "

Another silence. Will took it as a yes. He slowly raised his hand, carefully reached the creature's. It was warm, even in the chill of the wind, steady pulse beating under the skin. He squeezed it gently, exhaled a long breath.

"Do you know the game 'Hide-and-Seek'?"

"Never did I play any game."

"Then play with me. Hide from anyone, until I come and seek you."

"I am doing the former all the time. When will you come to me?"

"Can you read, Creature?"

"That was how I learnt your kind, Will."

Past tense. Will blinked.

"When I come here again, with a book in my hand, I shall wait for you." He heard someone, maybe Elizabeth, was calling his name. So did the creature.

"I'll be watching," The creature grinned, withdrew his hand, then disappeared how he appeared.

"Why not give yourself a name, if Victor never names you?"

"No one has ever told me so, Will, even De Lacey."

"You should, it associates with your identity. And who's De Lacey?"

The creature nodded, thoughtfully. They were sitting at the foot of the mountain, on a flat rock, watching the people and houses on the far end, like two solitudes who never belong to the existing world.

"An old blind man, he taught me how to read and talk as a man. The only kindness I had before you."

"What happened?"

"He taught me the four seasons, asked me to stay, then his son beaten me away."

"What did you do?"

"I burnt their house."

"Revenge."

"Yes, I learnt it from the heroes, Romans, and emperors."

"Because he was inconsistent."

"Yes," The creature turned and looked at him. "Will you be like him?"

"Man always changes, and we are paradoxical. But if I make you feel inconsistent, you can be revenged on me as well."

"Then I will be solitary again, _more_. So will you."

Will nodded. They sat in silence, between them were only the whistles of winds, rustles of leaves, gurgles of water, and warbles of birds. 

"I have a name." The creature said suddenly.

"Tell me."

"I think about Hannibal."

"The great Carthaginian general?"

"Yes."

"A good name indeed, Hannibal."

"You do not afraid of coldness?"

"Nor the heat, though I do enjoy the warmth."

"You feel hunger and thirst, you feel pain and suffering, but you never get ill."

"Not in my memory."

"And your hair never grows, the sutures never healed in the past year."

"No."

"Victor made you constant, _immortal_ , didn't he?"

"I've never had a chance to ask, Will."

"He brought life to death. Your body had already died, how can the same flesh die twice?"

"When my heart stops beating again, the heat escapes from my skin and organs, when I cannot feel myself anymore, perhaps."

"But no one knows when, even you, even Victor, he never mentioned that in the journal."

"No, no one knows. I'm different."

"You are," Will looked at the stitch on his face, realized for the first time that if the unnatural on it was ignored, Hannibal had the features of ancient Greek sculpture. "Maybe you can pretend you're not. Then no one will be afraid of your differences, and call you a monster or a wicked, anything like that. People judge by appearance."

"Cover up those sutures holding my tissues, make my skin looks living, you mean."

"And add some flushes of spring on your cheeks," Will joked. "Or you can learn sewing, make it neater and less conspicuous. Victor is terrible at that."

Hannibal laughed, showed his slanted teeth. Will could feel the soft rumbles in his chest. He couldn't help but started smiling brightly.

"I will need assistance, Will," Hannibal said with amusement. "I myself can't do the stitches on my head."

"You mean me."

"Yes."

"I'll be glad."

They began to meet almost every day. Everyone was busy arranging the wedding of Victor and Elizabeth. No one really cared why Will required more alone time than usual - he was always quiet, and might just be some adolescent worries about his brother's marriage after all.

Will stole some of Victor's very old clothes from the bottom of his closet, old enough that no one would notice they were missing. He noted that Hannibal craved to look presentable, even in his shabby rags. Every time they meet, he did best to be neat and clean. He also packed pencils, a notebook and some of his calligraphy specimens. He always brought his newly read books with him. Hannibal could read faster than him, and he had an absolutely strong memory. He could pronounce much smoother and more natural than when they first encountered now, after dozens of dialogues they'd had, though still thickly accented.

Besides all that, Will loved to hear his unique and insightful understanding about humanity, life and philosophy. About anything, everything. The depth and width of their conversations could sometimes reach somewhere Will had never gone to before. Hannibal appeared to be truly delighted when he received Will's gift. Will could tell from the gentle kiss on his forehead. They hardly had physical contacts, except the one time he held Hannibal's hand and the other when Hannibal asked him to touch his head, to feel the sutures and scars on his face, arms and chest.

"See?" He had asked.

Will had not answered, but kept softly running his finger along the dark line on beneath his collarbone.

"Since when you feel dissociated with people, Will?" Hannibal gently put him down under a large pine tree, then asked. "Or more precisely, so associated that you feel detached?"

Will exhaled a long breath. "I can't remember, maybe seven. When I first realized that seeing too much will bring me uneasiness."

"And trouble."

"And trouble," Will parroted, wrapping his arms around his knees. "Eyes are distracting. And humanity is far beyond complex."

"You've seen much more than you're willing to."

"Yes, and people never really want to be close to someone who can read them too well, like a mirror."

Hannibal paused for a while, then said. "The mirrors in your mind can reflect the best of yourself, not the worst of someone else."

"It’s always the latter, you understand that."

"Indeed, but they’re still capable of the former," Hannibal continued. "The forts you build between others and you shouldn't be inside your mind as well, nor between us."

"What do you see, in me, Hannibal?" Will frowned.

"Potential," answered Hannibal, "and part of myself."

"The moon."

"Yes. And the long-lost Eden."

"Victor will marry Elizabeth in a few days."

"For husbands, this means love your wives, just as Christ loved the church. He gave up his life for her."

"Yes, that's why and how he married her."

"What is love, Will?"

"You remember the Bible, Hannibal, in Corinthians."

"Is that what you consider as love?"

"I don't know what love feels like. I'm way too young."

"I admire the Bible, but I don't agree with that quote," Hannibal shook his head. "I don't think you do, either."

"What's in your mind?"

"In love, you can take leave of your senses, but in hatred, you must be present to calculate your actions."

"Contrary to the Bible, to the patience and tolerance of biblical love." 

Hannibal nodded. He looked down at the moving spots of people.

"Your brother loves you, loves his wife," He said, "Every love is unique, but not the faintest of his falls on me."

"That's why you came to seek him?" Will tilted his head, he didn't think that was the reason.

"No, Will. I have a request to ask."

"Will you tell me?"

"God created everything in pairs, Will. When the flood came, he allowed Noah to bring two of every sort into the ark, male and female. Victor played the God, but he made me in solitary, then disowned me in mud and water, thunder and snow."

"You want a female of your kind."

"Yes, I want a wife, a beautiful wife. I want to ask for the one thing I need to be content."

"Love." Will murmured. It seemed that Hannibal did not hear him.

"I was supposed to be his Adam, but he did not give me my Eve, and dismissed me off the paradise for nothing I did wrong."

"You are the Satan he and others made out of hands."

"I was born pure, and innocent, Will, until God sent blood onto Cain's fingertips." 

"I can ask him to see you. Why did you refuse my offer?" He finally asked.

"I hesitate, Will, still."

"Why?"

"I appreciate your company." Hannibal gazed into his eyes, ruby with fondness.

_Bang. Bang. Bang._

_"Lift up your voice and raise your wine, to bless the house of Frankenstein. The vows are sworn, the knot is tied, the garlands thrown on groom and bride._

_"Lift up your voice and raise your wine, to bless the house of Frankenstein. Once boy and girl, now man and wife. We wish them long and fruitful life……"_

The bell was ringing, the people were singing, all from the far dim image of the wedding.

They were sitting on the wooden walkaways upon the foggy lake, gazed afar at the cheers and laughter. The silence and peace lay in between were what they enjoyed.

"Why are you here with me, not with your family at the wedding?" Hannibal asked at length, when the bell faded away. "I assume they want you there, clapping and jumping, your father above all."

"I have been in the household all day, and I was there when they swore and kissed," Will shrugged, shook his head. "Now they are sending Elizabeth into her mistress bedroom, men are drinking. They won't remember me."

"You do not enjoy the wedding."

"No, though I am sincerely happy for them," Will tucked a hand under his chin, "Elizabeth waited for too long, she's a good lady with dignity and a golden heart."

"Will you get married, Will?" Hannibal turned to him and asked. "With someone like Elizabeth?"

"I am expected to marry a girl of my status," Will sighed. "To create more heirs of my lineage, and bring more benefits to my house."

"I supposed marriage is built on top of love," Hannibal seemed somehow upset. "But in your case, it isn't?"

"I can hardly imagine me falling in love with anyone," Will shrugged again

"What will you do, then, if no one forces you into a marriage you never desire?"

"I shall leave Geneva, and Switzerland. I'd like to go to universities, learn every field I have an interest in. Then earn some accumulations, find somewhere afar from crowds and settle down. I must keep some dogs, I love them."

"What about me?" Hannibal frowned.

 _Is he afraid of abandonment?_ Will slowly blinked his eyes wide, regarding Hannibal.

"You can travel with me, if you wish. We can learn in foreign colleges together, once you learn to make up yourself." He suggested, knowing Hannibal wouldn't take long to look exactly like a man.

Hannibal's face stretched. His lips curled into a thoughtful smile.

"I'll be utmost pleased." He finally said.

"No beautiful wife anymore?" Will teased.

"I once ached for friendship, now I have one, the only one," Hannibal breathed softly. Staring at the stormy-blue, the maroon eyes twinkling in the dim light of moon and stars. Something soothing and soft sparkling in there. The raven-feathered monster whined in comforts. "No wife can be more beautiful than you, Will, my latest found."

Will sat dumbfounded, speechless and voiceless.

_Is that adoration that he sees, underneath the ocean of solitary and sorrow, in the core of the monster's bleeding heart?_

Hannibal reached out his hand slowly, slowly, cupping Will's cheek with the richest tenderness. A butterfly was fluttering in his stomach, Will intended to say something, some words lingered at the tip of his tongues, but he failed to name them.

"William!" Someone shouted behind him.

Will startled, he rose to his feet, turned around, seeing Victor glaring at him and Hannibal with a torch in his hand. He could feel Hannibal's tense and burning wrath beside him. He knew, that's why he said that.

"Victor? Aren't you with Eli…”? He mumbled.

"Come here, William!" Victor interrupted; torch pointed to Hannibal. "I knew you're here, coming after me! You filthy, monstrous thing!"

Then he stuck, eyes wide with shock and excitement at the very sight of his creation.

"Oh…my God…" He murmured, out of breath. "Muscular coordination, hand and eye! The perfect balance!" He stepped closer, couldn't control himself. "Excellent tissues; the sutures have held! I failed to make it handsome, but I gave it strength and grace. What an achievement!"

"An achievement you never desire, Frankenstein," Hannibal growled.

"It speaks!" He cried.

"It's HE, Victor!" Will demanded.

"William!" It seemed that Will's voice awoke Victor's chaotic mind, his eyes altered to him. "Leave that monster and come here!"

Will could see more torches and figures running towards them, calling out his and Victor's name. But how could he eat his word, and watch Hannibal being abandoned again with strained eyes?

"Go, Will." A little tap on his back. Will was stunned at Hannibal's voice.

"Go back to your family, good boy. There will be an end between me and my creator, an end to my miserable past." Hannibal whispered in his ear, scarlet eyes full of affections. He bent over, left the softest kiss on his forehead. "I never break my promise, and neither do you, my Heaven's last, best gift."

A gentle push on his back. Then he was grabbed tightly on the wrist. Victor pulled him over, and stepped in front of him.

"Come, then, my creator." Hannibal raised, staring back at Victor, bared his fangs with a grin.

Will gawked at them, eyes unfocused. He watched them disappear in the gloomy woods one after another until he was tugged into his father's arms.

Victor was found unconscious in the forest two days later, nearly froze to death. His tongue was cut, limbs covered with wide dark stitches. Will saw it, and understood it. The creator now was transformed into his own creation externally, and what the Lord used to create was now removed. Victor's power to act the God was now deprived, disowned, then occupied by Hannibal. The only reason why he still held the breath of life was Hannibal demanded him to live, for Will couldn't afford the loss of his eldest brother, the heir of his house. After he was saved back, he begged their father to burn all his journals and records, then began to live a quiet life with Elizabeth, learning to manage their property. Soon the pair had their first baby, the dark clouds haunting above the mansion finally faded away.

But no one had witnessed Hannibal ever again.

Twelve years later. Florence, Italy.

After finishing the degree in anatomy, Will started a journey to Italy. He has planned on touring the exquisite museums around Florence. He's lodged in one of his old schoolfellow's house for the sake of money and spent the first day admiring Palazzo Capponi. Despite that he was indeed absorbed in its beauty and heavy history, he felt somehow an eye was lingering on his back. But when he turned around and scanned, tourists and antiques were the only things in his view.

"Frankenstein, a letter for you!" Leonardo De Luca, his friend calls.

"You must have mistaken the return address," Will replies, walking downstairs. "No one knows that I am here."

"No, no, no, Signore Will Frankenstein, it's you!" Leonardo shakes his head, looking down at the envelope. "The letter is from…Mio Dio! Palazzo Capponi! What have you done, my friend?"

"No idea. How strange." Will murmurs, taking the letter from Leonardo.

He opens it, pulls out a piece of paper which is really fine and carefully perfumed. He unfolds it.

"Doctor Fell requests the pleasure of your company for dinner, tonight, at seven."

"Oh god, he's the fresh curator of the Capponi Library. How did you meet him?" Leonardo cried in shock.

"The fresh curator?" Will frowned.

"Si, came all the way from Paris, just a few months ago."

"Thank you, De Luca."

At a quarter to seven, Will arrives at the gate of the Palazzo. He is led through a dozen of corridors leading to a fancy door, and finally, halts. Presumably the dining hall, he thinks, still wondering who on earth is this new curator.

"Please, come in." The voice behind the thick wood door is vague, but somehow familiar.

Will pushes the door open, then startled at the sight of the well-dressed man in front of him, eyes wide.

"I am very glad to see you again, Will." The man says, stepping closer elegantly. "It has been years, since our departure."

"Hannibal…" He mumbles. "You were watching."

"Yes." Hannibal nods, smiling fondly.

"Where have you been?"

"It's a long story, my dear," He says. "I can be the narrator during our meal, if you wish.

"But ahead of all, may I have a request to ask?"

"Say it."

"Shall I have the honour to court you, to love you all over again, after our most delightful reunion," Hannibal holds his hand gently, leaves a kiss on his knuckle. "My fairest, my espoused, my ever-new delight?"

He looks up. Maroon meets the stormy-blue, the monster inside stretching its sky-blocking wings, whining with ecstasy.

"Depends on your endeavour, I'm afraid." Will glances at the grand table, shrugs.

"Then allow me to feed you at my table, my remarkable boy," Hannibal replies quietly, guiding him to the first seat on the left.

"Bon appétit."

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know how you think about it :) Love you all.


End file.
